


He was her brother too

by emonemotheturtle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fred Weasley Dies, Fred's funeral, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Panic Attacks, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 21:28:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19048765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emonemotheturtle/pseuds/emonemotheturtle
Summary: Ginny isn't herself before Fred's funeral. That is, she didn’t argue, with anyone, about anything. She says she's fine. It almost seems true, until the funeral is ending. Then she can't take it anymore.





	He was her brother too

The days leading up to Fred’s funeral were as full as those before Bill and Fleur’s wedding, only everyone worked in a quiet gloom. Ginny in particular didn’t seem herself. That is, she didn’t argue, with anyone, about anything. She even  _ volunteered  _ to degnome the garden. She didn’t push her luck in the time and place in which she hung out with Harry. To anyone who didn’t know her, she was perfect--a model of patience, manners, and obedience. Except that’s not who Ginny was. One afternoon in particular, everyone sat in the kitchen as Molly doled out tasks and went over the funeral arrangements.

“We must have six pallbearers,” Molly said.

“Oh yes, all his siblings. That’ll be nice.” Hermione piped up.

“Yes all the boys and--who’ll be the sixth? Do you think Lee Jordan would? He and the twins always got on quite well.” Molly spoke to herself more than any of them.

“Yeah, Fred and Lee were great friends,” Ginny said quietly.

“Why wouldn’t Ginny be the sixth?” Harry asked warily.

“Pallbearers are wizards. It’s traditional,” Molly explained, rather forcefully.

“I’m sure Lee would be glad to do it. I’ll send him an owl.” Ginny excused herself and slipped from the room. She still heard Ron’s muttered response as she climbed the stairs.

“I don’t think Fred ever cared too much about tradition.”

She escaped to Ron’s room and Pigwidgeon’s cage before anyone else could speak. Ginny composed a simple letter to Lee, and sent the owl on her way.

“I just don’t get it,” came a voice from the corridor outside. “He was her brother too.”

Ginny exited the bedroom to find Harry and Hermione. Immediately the conversation ceased.

“I’m going to start on those chores,” Ginny said as she passed them. Harry, who had nodded to Hermione to continue without him, grabbed her wrist.

“Hey, are you ok?’ He asked. His brows were furrowed in concern.

“I’m fine,” Ginny replied simply.

“Are you sure? That can’t have been easy, getting passed over for Lee.”

“Harry,” she said firmly. “I’m fine.”

He was at a loss. He couldn’t make her open up to him. “Well, I’m always here, you know, if you want to talk.”

Ginny only nodded and continued down the stairs.

 

The day of the funeral arrived. Ginny wore a simple black dress. She sat stoically between her mother and Harry as her brothers and Lee Jordan carried Fred’s casket down the center aisle.

Molly cried.

George cried.

Percy cried.

Everyone cried.

Except Ginny.

After the service she chatted politely with guests, thanked them for their condolences, listened to their memories of Fred. She was as fine as she had claimed for days. That is, until the funeral was winding down, guests starting to leave, the boys starting to clean up.

Suddenly she felt like the walls were closing in on her. The collar of her dress seemed to be choking her. She had to get out and fast.

“Excuse me,” she whispered to nobody in particular.

She escaped out the back door of the Burrow and took off at a hard sprint. Her shoes fell off, unable to carry her breakneck pace. Her hair escaped the simple knot at the nape of her neck, her fiery red locks now waving like a flag behind her. Harry, who had been watching Ginny carefully all day, saw her escape and followed. She didn’t stop running until she reached the broomshed. Harry was only a few paces behind her.

“Ginny,” he started.

She whirled around to look at him. Her normally warm and gentle brown eyes were wild and filled with tears. “I can’t breathe,” she choked out, clawing at her throat. “Help me.”

Harry obliged. He quickly unbuttoned her dress, exposing her freckled back to the afternoon sun. He watched helplessly as she leaned against the wall of the shed. Her breath came hard and fast and shallow. She started beating her open fists against the shed, strangled screams escaping her throat.

“Ginny-- Gin-- GINNY--” Harry wrapped his arms protectively around her tiny frame. She struggled against him for a moment before collapsing into his body. Together they sank to the ground.

“I-- He just-- And mum-- I tried-- I couldn’t-- He--” Ginny cried incoherently into Harry’s chest.

“Shh…” Harry ran his hand through her hair and down her back. “Shh… it’s ok.”

“IT’S NOT OK!” she screamed, pulling against him again. Harry only tightened his embrace. “Nothing is ok,” she sobbed.

“I know,” he whispered. “You feel like your entire existence is being ripped apart. You feel--” he remembered Dumbledore’s words from several years earlier, “You feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it.”

“Make it stop,” Ginny whimpered. “Please.”

“I can’t,” Harry choked. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Ginny.”

“He was my brother. And he just up and died.” Ginny practically growled with anger. “How could he?”

Harry didn’t have an answer for her. Of course Fred hadn’t wanted to die. But facts like that don’t soften the blow of grief.

“I miss him.” Ginny’s voice had softened. “I miss my big brother.”

“I miss him too.” Harry gave her a small squeeze and kissed the top of her head.

Harry looked back towards the house. Bill was walking towards them, undoubtedly sent to search for the missing couple. The two men made eye contact. Harry shook his head as though to say  _ No, she’s not ok, but I’ve got her. Don’t worry. _ The oldest Weasley sibling simply nodded his understanding and started back towards the Burrow.

Neither of them knew exactly how long they sat there, leaned against the broomshed. Ginny  was so still in his arms that Harry was almost certain she had fallen asleep. When Ginny stirred again, the sun hung low in the sky.

“Hey,” Harry whispered, stroking her hair.

“So much for being fine,” Ginny said disappointedly.

Harry practically winced at her words and held her tightly. The two watched the sun set over the fields before finally walking back to the house.


End file.
